A Tracy Island Christmas
by Lemur3402
Summary: The Tracy's are getting ready for the holidays and even though John has a cold, he's still having a pretty good time.


_I'm in a Christmas mood, what can I say? I wrote this a few years ago and thought it would be fun. Standard disclaimer, the boys are not mine. Just the crazy situations I like to stick them in to._

* * *

"How are you feeling, Johnny?"

From his bed, John Tracy looked up from the television screen, wincing at the sound of his own ragged voice as he answered his eldest brother, Scott. "I'm not entirely sure, but I think I might live."

Scott raised one of the two steaming mugs he was carrying. "I brought you some tea. Grandma is still holed up in the sewing room with Alan."

"Brave soul," John said as he accepted the mug gratefully. Scott had spent a lot of time taking care of John as well as his brothers whenever they had fallen ill as kids. He was pleased to find that Scott remembered just how he took his tea. The lemon was tempered with the sweet honey that soothed his throat. The warmth of the mug seeped into his hands. It felt good.

"This is a hell of a way to spend Christmas." Scott commented as he sat down in the armchair and propping his feet up on John's bed.

"I'm doing it for the sympathy." John replied as he unwrapped a throat lozenge and popped it in his mouth. "I just wanted to lie around in my shorts and be waited on hand and foot. No rescues, no satellite duty. How's Brains doing in Thunderbird 5, by the way?"

"He's all right." Scott took a sip of the coffee John knew was in his cup. "You know how he is. He's happy if he's got a computer to rebuild."

"I'm just sorry he got stuck up there over the holidays."

"Can't be helped. You're sick and Alan is needed here. Besides," Scott grinned devilishly, "I think Brains was eager to be out of the way."

"Can't blame him."

Scott nodded as he caught sight of the movie John had been watching. "Did Gordon bring that in for you?"

"Yeah."

"Did Alan fall down in the snow yet?"

John laughed. "Yeah, you missed it."

The movie "A Christmas Story" had been a favorite of all the Tracy's for years. Scott insisted that the younger of the two boys in the film was most definitely Alan and that he had stuffed him into more snowsuits and pulled him out of more snowdrifts than the rest of the brothers combined. For his part, Alan took it well and would frequently yell "I can't get up, Ralphie!" just to get Scott to laugh.

"You mind if I hang out in here with you for a while?" Scott asked. "I'd just as soon stay out of the way with everything that's going on out there."

"Make yourself at home."

The leg lamp had just been broken when a voice called from the hall. "Hey, Scott?"

"In John's room."

Seconds later, Gordon appeared in the door to John's bedroom. He was dressed in a suit of red, trimmed in white fur with shiny black boots and a belt. A long white beard covered his chin and a matching wig hid his copper-colored hair. A red Santa Claus hat topped of the ensemble.

Scott looked him up and down. "Well, if it isn't the Easter Bunny."

"Those red eyebrows of yours don't stand out or anything. It looks like you've got a couple of caterpillars crawling on your face." John gave him a lopsided grin. "Are you going to bleach them or shave them off?"

"Neither. There are fake eyebrows to go with this get-up."

"Fake eyebrows?" Scott made a face. "How are you going to keep those on?"

"Tin Tin has some of that glue for fake eyelashes-"

Neither Scott nor John was any good after that. Both burst into a fit of chuckles that they found hard to control.

"Would you two grow up?" Gordon said, smiling under his beard.

"Sure, Santa." John sat up against the pillows to really take in the costume. "Grandma did a good job with that."

"She's pretty excited."

Despite the distance the Tracy's now lived from Galva, Kansas, Elaine Tracy still kept in contact with many of the friends and volunteers that she used to work with while her family was still living there. The Ladies' Auxiliary was throwing a holiday party for needy children in the county. Jeff had been more than willing to front the money for toys and a feast. Gordon had offered to play Santa Claus. He along with Grandma, Alan, and Tin Tin were leaving in two days for Kansas and would not return until Christmas Eve. Jeff, Scott, and Virgil would be left to man International Rescue. John figured he could provide moral support, if nothing else.

He smirked. "How are the other costumes coming?"

"Tin Tin's is done." Gordon replied. "Alan's is . . . almost done."

"Grandma stuck him with a pin again, didn't she?" Scott asked.

"He fidgets." Gordon replied. "And, let's face it. Any of us would poke him with something sharp if we could legitimately get away with it."

Through some fit of insanity, Alan had offered to be an elf. Alan, the young man that would not leave the house without designer clothes or every blonde hair perfect upon his head, had offered to be an elf. Though it was a bit of shock, it was no big mystery as to why Alan had done it. Tin Tin had fawned all over Gordon after he had volunteered to play Santa, singing his praises for a full half an hour and offering to be one Gordon's "Little Helpers". That had taken a not-so-unforeseeable turn into the realm of sexual innuendo. Fuming, Alan had jumped on the bandwagon . . . or the sleigh, as the case was.

"Gordon," Scott was studying his brother with a critical eye. "I don't mean to nit-pick, I really don't-"

"But?"

"Your padding is crooked." Scott waved a vague finger at the suit of stuffing Gordon was wearing beneath his coat. "You're supposed to be round and jolly. You look more like you've got a beer-gut."

Gordon looked down at his stomach. "I put it on in kind of a hurry."

"I don't know how much it's going to help." John offered. "Even if you fix it, you do still look like a fat guy with skinny legs. There are other parts of you that could use some padding, too."

"What are you saying?" Gordon asked suspiciously.

"You don't have a butt." Scott stated bluntly. "Whoever heard of a Santa with no butt?"

Gordon immediately reached around for his cheeks, grabbing hanks of red velvety material that hung there, unfilled. "Damn it! You're right. I need a prosthetic ass."

The cough drop John had been working on promptly slid down the wrong pipe as he started to laugh. The next few moments were spent with Scott thumping him on the back and Gordon fetching him glasses of water from his bathroom.

"Sorry John." Gordon said as he and Scott helped him settle back against his pillows.

"You are the worst Santa ever." John grinned as he laid back and tried to catch his breath.

"I beg to differ." Gordon countered. "Remember the guy in the mall when I was seven?"

"The one that smelled like corn chips?" Scott nodded. "Yeah, he's worse. At least Gordon's not drunk."

John raised an eyebrow at Gordon. "Are you?"

"Nah. I had a hit off the cooking sherry earlier to rile Grandma up."

"You will live dangerously."

"Okay, look. There was a reason I came in here." Gordon said. "I want you guys to give me an opinion on my 'Santa' voice."

John gave Scott a look to which Scott shrugged. "Let's hear it."

Gordon cleared his throat and put his thumbs in his belt. "Ho, ho, ho. And what would you like for Christmas, little boy?"

"You sound like a serial killer."

John tried not to cough as he laughed at his brothers.

"That's a little harsh, Scotty."

"That's the type of voice a man uses when he's trying to lure kids into a van with puppies."

Gordon threw back his head and whined. "Santa needs another drink."

"Are you up here, Gordon?"

The three men looked to the door again. Tin Tin stood there shaking her head. "Gordon, you are worse than a child. Your grandmother told you not to play with that costume."

"I'm trying to get a feel for the character."

"It still has pins in it."

"I'm well aware." Gordon said ruefully.

"And what have you done to the padding?" Tin Tin stepped forward and began to push and prod the padding into a more agreeable shape. "You look like a pregnant woman."

John was pretty sure Scott got a good swig of coffee up his nose as Tin Tin balled up her fist and socked Gordon right in his padded gut.

"Ow! Hey, I'm under there!" Gordon rubbed his borrowed belly protectively.

Tin Tin smiled innocently. "I'm just trying to help.

"I think you need to hit him again." John said.

Gordon shot back, "Coal for you!"

"Did someone call a meeting?" Virgil asked as he stepped into the room. "Nice suit, Gord."

"Hey thanks." Gordon gestured to the red container in Virgil's hand. "Found the fried onion straws a little early this year, did ya?"

Virgil held up the container and shook it, poking through its contents with an index finger. "Yeah. I figured 'why not?'"

"Doesn't your grandmother need those for the green bean casserole?" Tin Tin asked. "Virgil, she's stressed enough without you eating her Christmas dinner supplies."

"It's okay, Tin Tin." Scott reassured her. "We get a spare can just for Virg every year."

"After we went three straight years with no green bean casserole at Christmas." Gordon put in.

"It's true. I'm a fried onion junky." Virgil crunched a few of the onions. "Usually, I eat the whole damned can on Christmas Eve. I'm just not a happy camper afterwards."

"Trust me, Virg. None of us are."

"Keep it up, Santa." Virgil said benignly. "And I won't show you what Brains and I made for you."

"Huh?"

"What kind of a Santa Claus would you be without a reindeer?" Virgil's eyes were smiling.

"You guys made a reindeer?"

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, Virgil pulled out a small remote control. At a touch of a few buttons, a small animatronics figure ambled into John's room. John sat up on his elbows to get a better look at it.

Brains and Virgil had outdone themselves. The little deer was something out of a Disney movie, soft and cute. Light brown fur rippled over its fur, looking as natural as that of a living creature. A rack of rather impressive antlers sprouted from its angular head. The details were precise, right down to the hard little hooves and the harness of bells that jingled around its neck. Large blue eyes blinked at them all as Tin Tin cooed over it. It moved fluidly and animatedly as it moved towards where Gordon was standing.

"The kids are going to love this!" Gordon said as Virgil handed over the remote control.

"Just don't poke any of the kids with the antlers. They're soft, but I still think a thing like that could traumatize a child."

"Does it fly?"

"Don't press your luck."

"You're right. Where would we put the rocket thruster?" Gordon looked pointedly under the reindeer's tail. "Hey Al! Check it out!"

Alan gave them all a confused look as he entered the room. "Are we having John's wake? He doesn't look dead to me."

"You're a riot." John replied. "Gordon was modeling the Santa outfit for us. Where's your elf costume?"

"Oh yeah." Alan snorted sarcastically. "That's gonna happen."

Behind Alan, John saw Virgil nudge Gordon. He mimed using a camera, pointed at the deer, and showed Gordon a button on the remote. Gordon grinned maliciously.

Alan was leaning over inspecting the reindeer. "This thing is pretty cool, actually. Did you guys use the same technology as Brains used to build Braman?"

"Yeah." Virgil grimaced. "The only thing was making it compatible with the anatomy of an actual reindeer. I am now intimately acquainted with the internal workings of _Rangifer tarandus."_

Alan yelped as the reindeer began to sing in a sweet, high-pitched voice. He stepped back quickly and shot Gordon a dirty look. "Very funny."

"Sorry." Gordon looked anything but apologetic. "Wrong button."

The deer's little head was bobbing along with the time of the music as it sang "Deck the Halls." Alan made a face. "That's a little creepy."

"You build the next one." Virgil commented.

John watched as Gordon began to inch the little reindeer closer to Alan. "What's the matter, Ally? You afraid of Rudolph?"

Alan knew better than to back down. He crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at Gordon as the deer ran into his leg. "It's not Rudolph. His nose doesn't glow."

The stupid thing was practically humping Alan's leg at this point, it nose rubbing up against Alan's thigh as it continued to sing. "Aww, he likes you."

"You're warped, Gord." Alan laughed. "Call off your beast. It's rubbing my leg raw."

Laughter erupted again, but the sound of Scott's watch beeping stilled the room. He raised the wrist communicator as everyone else listened intently. "Go ahead, Father."

"Son, where the blue blazes is everyone?"

"John's room." Scott answered. "We kind of all migrated here."

"Sorry to break up the fun." Jeff sighed. "Brains just called. We've got a mission. Looks like we'll need everyone."

"FAB. On our way." Scott stood up and headed for the door. "We'll be right back, John."

"You guys be careful." John called after his family. "I'll keep Dad company while you're out there."

"Hey Scott." Gordon called as he walked out between Virgil and Alan. "Can I wear the Santa costume?"

"Sure. Hook Rudolph up to Thunderbird 4 and you can fly there."

John swung himself out of bed and headed down the hall. As he went John reflected that despite everything, he really was in the Christmas spirit. Sure, he was down with bronchitis and sick as a dog. Sure, it was eighty- freakin'- degrees outside and there was a palm tree waving by his window and the chance of snow was highly unlikely.

It was the people that made the holiday special. And after his brothers got done saving the world and helping the less fortunate, they'd spend a helluva Christmas together. They always did.

The End and Merry Christmas


End file.
